


Not Talking

by Citlali



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foggy is an awesome friend, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citlali/pseuds/Citlali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt has been drugged and Foggy is taking care of him.  “I really want you to try and stop talking.  Can you do that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life is strange. Foggy knows this. Foggy knows life is strange because he has a frequent customer card at a tobacconist even though he has never smoked tobacco. He knows life is strange because he didn't become a butcher like his mother wanted him to. He suspects he has somehow cheated fate, and this is life's way of making sure he's aware of that fact.

His best friend is a masked vigilante.

The vigilante-friend as mentioned above is leaning sideways on his couch drugged out of his mind and wrapped in Foggy's softest blanket.

Life is working overtime to make certain Foggy knows that his life is gong-show. That gong-show was what he got in exchange for working his ass off to become a lawyer rather than immersing himself in cured meats like his mother wanted him to do.

Matt is dictating a private conversation taking place two floors below Foggy’s apartment.

“Stop talking.” Foggy pleads.

They injected me with something. That was as coherent as Matt came to explaining what went wrong. Matt didn’t always share what he did when he went out, and Foggy didn't always ask. That didn’t change that Matt often ended up at Foggy’s apartment in the evening and Foggy is freaking grateful that Matt could think coherently enough to come to him tonight. Foggy shudders to think of his friend in this kind of condition out on the streets alone. He didn’t think he could ever get used to Matt getting hurt, but hey, he was adapting to the new normal.

It would be nice, though, if Matt could stop dictating Mrs and Mr Hudson’s discussion on the finer points of their swinging status with the Phillips down the hall. Foggy doesn't want to know what kind of shenanigans his retired neighbours are getting up to. All the same, kudos to them for still getting it up at all. We should all be so lucky in our eighties.

“I smell Marci.” Matt says as he lists even further onto his side, his face now pressing against the couch cushions.

“Marci?” Foggy can’t help but repeat. “What? You mean she’s in the building?” It wouldn't be the first time. Come to think of it, Foggy’s little apartment is disturbingly active in the middle of the night these days.

“No. She was here.” Matt says. He isn’t leaning anymore. He’s laying on his side with his face pressed against the couch cushion. “She sat here.”

“Oh for the love of... Okay buddy, let’s get you back up.” Foggy hooks his hand around Matt’s arm and wrestles him back up into a non-couch sniffing posture. Matt leans back, and his head tilts up towards the ceiling.

“She’s not good for you.”

“I know.” Foggy agrees. "I don't mind."

“I had sex with Marci,” Matt said. “At Columbia.”

“I'm aware of that,” Foggy admits.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don't apologize.” Foggy laughs. “Marci is a grown woman and does what she wants.”

“She talked about you.”

“That, I didn't need to know.” Foggy insists, and he decides that maybe hearing about the sex lives of his elderly neighbours isn’t so bad. “Listen Matt. Do you remember what happened tonight?”

“I got away.”

“You've been drugged. Remember Claire?”

“I haven’t had sex with Claire.”

“Good to know, buddy. Focus okay?”

“I don’t feel good.” Matt groans. “I want to go home.”

“I know. But I need you to stay here for now until you feel better. Claire said you would be okay. Do you remember she took a blood sample? She will slip it in at the lab to run toxicology tests, but she thinks you’ll be okay. You need to sleep it off. I'm taking care of you until you feel more like yourself, but I want you to stop talking. Can you do that?”

“Mrs Hudson just told her husband she wants a new vibrator. The one she wants is too expensive. What’s wrong with the old one? It's too loud.”

“Matt!” Foggy shakes his friend’s shoulder. “Do you want to listen to some music instead?”

“No. Your speakers are tinny.”

“How about TV?”

“I don’t like TV. The sound effects are wrong.”

“All right, buddy.” Foggy pet Matt’s arm. “How about we talk about something else instead?”

“I like your voice Foggy.”

“Will that help? If I talk?” Foggy offers. “You know my mother wanted me to be a butcher?”

Matt laughs. “She’s proud of you. But, she thinks we're too co-dependent.”

“What? No, she doesn't. My family loves you.”

“I heard your parents talking. Last Thanksgiving. They like me because they love you.” Matt reaches over and takes Foggy’s hand. “They think we’re in the closet, but they're waiting for you to come out to them. They were talking about ways they can be supportive, but they're kind of disappointed that you won't be giving them grandkids.”

Foggy eases his hand out of Matt’s grip and rests it on his friend’s forearm instead. “You should have told me sooner. I’ll talk to them.”

“Foggy, there are so many things I don’t tell you.”

“I know, buddy, but now’s not the time to get into that.” It would be so easy to convince Matt to tell him every little detail right now, but it wouldn’t be fair. “When you’re feeling better you can say anything you want. You should try and sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are. If you are even a little bit suggestible, I suggest you take a good long nap. Please be tired, Matt.” Foggy waits a moment, crossing his fingers that his friend will close his eyes and follow his advice, but that would be too easy. Matt’s eyes continue to track things that Foggy can’t hear. “Hey. I know what we can talk about, what colour should we paint our offices? I’m leaning towards fuchsia and gold. What do you think of fuchsia and gold as our official colours?”

“I think that would look terrible.”

“Your office is already bright orange. I think it will match.”

“It’s white. Karen said it was white. She wants to pick out some art.”

“How about dogs playing poker?” Foggy suggests, running with it.

“I told her to find something with a sky in it. A blue sky.” Matt says wistfully. “She’s right you know.”

“That we need art on the walls? Sure. You can have your picture of the sky, and I’ll take the dogs playing poker. I don’t mind.”

“Your mom is right. I think she’s right about us, but she’s worried you only love me because I need you.”

Foggy feels his grip tighten on Matt's arm and forces himself to relax. “That must have sucked to listen to; I’ll set her straight and explain things to her before Christmas.”

“Is she right?” Matt asks.

“Matt.” Foggy whispers. “We can not talk about this right now.”

“I can’t love you,” Matt says, his voice breaking.

“I know. It’s all right; we’ll always be friends.”

“Everyone I love leaves. I don't want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Matt. We’ll talk about it later, I promise. But not now; not while you’re like this.” Foggy puts his arm around Matt’s shoulder and pulls him closer. “I will tell you why Dunkin Donuts is better than Starbucks, and you will be quiet and listen. It’s important that you listen and not say anything. The fate of the universe is at stake, and it all comes down to Dunkin Donuts versus Starbucks.” Foggy takes a breath. He is determined to talk for the rest of the night if that is what it takes.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy wakes up alone.

  
Foggy wakes up alone, sprawled half on and half off his couch and a shooting pain in his neck when he looks to the right. It is late morning, and the sun is shining through his living room window and directly onto his face. It’s the weekend, and he has nowhere specific to be though he had intended to spend at least part of the day at the office. He can’t remember when Matt fell asleep last night, nor does he have any memory of his friend leaving this morning.

Apparently Matt changed back into his super-suit before leaving. Foggy’s blanket is hanging on the back of the chair.

There is also a note scrawled across a page of junk mail, and it takes a moment for Foggy to decipher Matt’s distinctively illegible handwriting over the clearing house sweepstakes add. That it says, “Thanks”, doesn’t make Foggy feel any better about having wasted his time trying to read it.

So he calls him. The call connects at the third ring, and Matt’s voice sounds sleepy and thick.

"Hi, Foggy."

“You made it home all right?”

"Yeah. Thanks."

“You’re feeling better?”

"I think so. Clair called. The lab couldn’t identify the drug they used. She will come by this morning."

“So, you’re okay then?”

"I'm all right."

“You were pretty out of it last night. Do you remember anything?” Foggy asks hesitantly.

There’s silence for what feels like a long time and Foggy wishes he had just an ounce of Matt’s hearing ability so he could, at least, know his friend was still on the other end of the line.

"Not, not really. I mean, I remember things. Is there something? Something I should remember?"

Foggy cleared his throat. “Not that I’m aware of, you slept on my couch. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

"Thanks, Foggy. We’ll, uh, I’ll be at the office later today. After Clair. There’s stuff I need to catch up on."

“Sure, buddy.” Foggy answers. “Maybe I’ll see you there.” He says, but Matt has already disconnected the call.


	3. Fuchsia

The offices of Nelson and Murdock are quiet.  Foggy is alone.  At least, he thinks he is until he hears something thump in Matt’s room and turns his head and sees his partner picking a coffee mug up off the floor.  

“Need help with that?”  Foggy calls out.  He watches Matt pause and then sit back on his heels.  

“Paper towels.”  Matt calls back and Foggy grabs the closest thing to it he can find.  

“Karen’s scarf?”  Matt asks.  

“It’s just coffee, right?”

“It won’t stain?”

“It brown.  It will blend in.”  The scarf makes a terrible rag, but it soaks up some of the mess.  And it isn't brown, its yellow but Matt doesn't need to know that.  “Don’t worry, I’ll wash it.”  

Matt is back on his feet, leaning against his desk.  

“You should be at home resting.  You look tired.”  Foggy says.

“I could say the same to you.”  

“No, you can’t.”  Foggy counters.  

Matt huffs a short laugh.  “I know you’re tired.”  He corrects himself.  

Karen’s scarf is dripping in his hand, and he’s not sure what to do with it, so he tosses it into the corner.  Matt places a hand on his arm and Foggy freezes.  Matt seems frozen too.  “Matt?”

“What…”  Matt shifts his feet, tilts his head and frowns all in one motion.  He coughs and starts again.  “Foggy, what colour is fuchsia?”

“Fuchsia?”  Foggy asks.  

Matt nodds.  “What… is that like a pink?”  

“Kind of like a mix between red and purple,”  Foggy explains.  

Matt is breathing fast.  “You didn’t choose to get involved in this.”

“I choose to stay.”  

“We all pay for our choices,”  Matt replies.  “What if the price is too high?”  

“Still my choice to make,”  Foggy says.  

Matt is still breathing hard.  “She is right, you know.”  

Foggy hopes that Matt is talking about Mrs Hudson’s need for a new vibrator, because if he is talking about what Foggy thinks he is talking about, Foggy isn't sure what he is supposed to do. 

“Your mom is right.  I need you.”  Matt sounds like he is choking on broken glass.

Foggy closes the gap between himself and his friend, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders and pulling him as close as he can.  “I need you too,”  He whispers.  “But that’s not why I love you.  There’s so much more to it than that.”  Matt makes an incoherent noise against Foggy’s shoulder, and Foggy just hugs him closer.  “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.  No matter what.  I’ll wait for you forever if that’s what you need.”    


End file.
